Things That Go Bump In The Night
by DreamsInBlackAndWhite
Summary: John Rider is back to protect his son. And six year old Alex Rider is in more danger than ever before.
1. Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: I do now own the Alex Rider series of books.

_Very short chapter to kick us off. Hope you read. And I'd love to read a review from you. Whoever you are._

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"Ian, Ian, there's a hairy monster under my bed!".

Ian Rider cracked an eye open and looked at his nephew. Alex bounded across the room and gripped his uncle's fingers determinedly. He tugged them and Ian frowned. His head was pounding painfully and his ribs were stinging from the fight the day before. Ian refused to think about his last mission. Work and home, in his opinion, were to be kept separate at all costs.

"Come see!" Alex said excitedly. Ian rolled onto his other side and rubbed his eyes blearily. He wanted to just curl up and sleep for six months. He knew he had to get up the next day and he should send Alex back to bed but he also knew Alex wouldn't stay there.

"Al, you can sleep in here tonight. Just don't wriggle around during the night, okay?"

Alex pulled himself up into the double bed and grinned. All thoughts of the hairy monster were pushed aside as he pulled the blanket up to his chin. He loved Ian's bed. It always seemed cosier and warmer than his own.

Ian smiled to himself. _Objective achieved. Now Alex is quiet, I can get some sleep. _

Alex squirmed slightly. The hairy monster was swimming back into his thoughts. The eyes had shocked him. They were a kind of cloudy blue colour. But they were so alert Alex could still see them focusing sharply on his as he remembered peeking under his bed.

"Ian, the monster said I had to come get you" Alex whispered gently.

Ian grunted. He'd had enough of that stupid hairy monster stuff. But he knew from past experience that Alex wouldn't let this drop. The boy had Helen's stubborn streak. Sometimes it was a blessing. Other times like these, Ian just wanted to cry. Why did Alex have to be so damn determined to see things through?

"Al, there's no monster under your bed. You were probably just dreaming" Ian replied softly. He prayed silently that Alex would accept that and just drop off into a dream.

"But I wasn't Ian! Please. He said to get you. And he was real nice. He said please. I think he has an tummy ache. And he needs a bath too. He's really dirty Ian. Maybe he forgotted how to wash. Or maybe he doesn't like the bath. I'll give him my rubber ducky so he can have a friend in the bath, 'kay?" Alex rambled.

Ian groaned loudly into his pillow. When would the chatter stop so that he could get some sleep? The best thing to do would be to check under Alex's bed and see what he was talking about.

"Fine, Al. I'll take a look under your bed. Alright?" Ian said, sighing in defeat.

Ian rolled out of bed, leaving Alex curled up under the blanket and walked slowly into his nephew's bedroom. Ian paused and leaned against the wall. Alex raced into the room and held onto his uncle's hand tightly.

Ian sighed again. What would this accomplish? He rubbed Alex's hair gently and then crossed from the wall to the bed in two steps. Slowly he crouched. His ribs flared in pain. He swore inwardly. What the hell was he doing, looking under Alex's bed for things that went bump in the night?

Ian looked under and nearly screamed. Sharp blue eyes stared up at him. A hand reached out weakly from under the bed and clasped Ian's. Ian ignored Alex, who was shrieking 'I told you so!' at the top of his voice and gently pulled the hand.

An arm emerged from under the bed. Alex was right. It was filthy. But powerful looking. Strong. In degrees, a man slipped out from uinder the bed. Ian helped him to his feet. Alex was silent. The boy sensed something was wrong.

Ian turned his gaze to the man. His whole body was streaked with dirt. He wore a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms and a light blue t-shirt. Both items of clothing were caked in mud. But Ian didn't care. He had eyes only for the man.

His hair was muddy as well, but Ian caught flashes of blond under the dirt. There was a circle of clean on his face and Ian could see a strong profile. His eyes were sharp blue, watchful and calm. Stubble had grown on his chin. It suited him. It was the eyes though. Ian couldn't stop looking at them.

"Ian...help...me" the man rasped.

The voice wafted into Ian's ear and Ian frowned.

"John?" he asked.

The man nodded. Ian clasped his brother in a rib breaking hug. He hadn't noticed the tears flowing from his eyes. John hugged him back. Alex cocked his head slightly. He was curious.

Who was the hairy monster? And why was Ian hugging him?

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_To be continued. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Alex Rider series. **

**Ah, an update! You should be grateful. This is the only story I managed to update before my holiday. Which I'm leaving for tomorrow. So don't expect and update on any of my stories in the next three weeks. It will not happen.**

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Ian handed a pack of frozen peas to his brother and John accepted them with a faint echo of a smile. He pressed them to the swollen side of his face and grimaced slightly from the icy touch. With his left hand he was holding an ice pack to his stomach, which was badly bruised and battered. It had taken on a yellowish colour that Ian was worried about.

"I'm fine Ian. Really. I didn't come here for Medical Aid" John said, trying and failing in his attempt to reassure his younger brother. Ian frowned. He closed the freezer and glanced over at the open First Aid kit. John caught the glance and his lips twitched. To him, it seemed rather pointless. The bruises and cuts had long since stopped hurting him.

"Why did you come here? What are you doing John? I was told you were dead. Dead. Then I find you under Alex's bed. In fact, what the hell where you doing under there? Why didn't you come to me!? Why didn't you call for me!?" Ian replied. The volume of his voice raised towards the end of his words and he realised too late just how accusing he sounded. He was upset and worried and elated at the same time. He wanted to know what was going on.

John blinked once.

"Ian, you yelled at the monster so he's gonna eat you!" Alex chuckled gleefully.

Ian looked across at his forgotten nephew. Alex was sitting on the kitchen table, kicking his legs to and fro. Ian had supported John down to the kitchen to clean him up. He'd been so busy making sure John didn't take a header down the stairs that he'd forgotten to send Alex to bed.

"Al, don't you think it's time for big boys to be in bed? Go on. You can sleep in my bed tonight" Ian said seriously. Alex rolled his eyes and jumped down from the table. He took one last long look at the hairy monster and then padded off upstairs. Both men listened as he closed the door of Ian's bedroom with a creak.

"Ian, can we please not do this? I don't have time for it. The less you're involved, the better. I'm going to go shower, okay? I'm starting to smell like a corpse. Will you please get Alex ready for me? Dressed in warm clothes. And could you just put a change of clothes in a backpack for him? Something that'll do when it's really warm. Please" John asked.

Ian gaped at his older brother. Had he lost his mind!? There was no way in hell that he waas letting John take Alex. John didn't know much about kids to start with. Six years out of practice couldn't have improved that. And Alex didn't know who John was. Alex didn't know anything about him.

"No. Whatever trouble you're in, we'll face it here. Alex is staying here. You're in no state to look after yourself, never mind a six year old boy" Ian said firmly. John frowned at his younger brother.

"Ian, you don't understand. Alex will be killed if he stays here much longer. Just get him ready. Please. Just do this one thing for me, 'kay?" John replied seriously. Ian shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"No" Ian retorted.

John frowned.

"What do you mean, 'no'? Ian, I just need this one tiny thing and then I'm gone. I'm taking my son with me" he said.

Ian slipped casually into a fighting position and nonchalantly blocked the door. John's eyes narrowed slightly. Tension thickened the air between them. Ian was ready for a fight. John was already battered and bruised.

"No. Alex isn't going anywhere. Not in the middle of the night with a stranger" Ian said coldly. A part of him flinched at that. This was John. This wasn't a stranger. But Ian felt he no longer knew his own brother.

"I'm a stranger? What are you talking about? It's me, John Rider. Your older brother" John replied. A part of him flinched at Ian's words. Ian was no longer his baby brother. He was a man now. John still saw him as a fresh faced twenty year old, eager to please at the Royal & General.

"The John Rider I knew died a long time ago" Ian said. Both brothers blinked at that. Ian realized when they'd cremated what he'd thought to be John, a piece of him had been scattered in the wind, just like those ashes.

"Ian, I don't have the time to tell you the whole story. Am I going to have to make you move so that I can take Alex?" John asked sharply, brushing aside the sense of betrayal that was twisting his stomach in knots.

"I'm not moving. We're not children anymore. You can't make me" Ian said determinedly.

"Yes, I can" John smirked.

Ian blinked. John was treating him like a kid. Again. Why did the man think he was always right? John had what Ian lacked. Charisma. Confidence in himself and his purpose. Everything was black and white for John. Good and Evil.

"You and who's army?" Ian asked.

"No army. Just him" John said, nodding behind Ian. Before Ian could turn around, something hard struck the back of his head and he slumped to the ground, unconscious before he hit the floor. John crouched beside his brother and checked his pulse. He wasn't dead. But he'd wake up with the mother of all head aches.

John straightened up and frowned at the man who stood where Ian had stood seconds before.

"You couldn't have just tranquilized him, could you?" John asked, rather angrily.

The other man ignored him completely and tucked his gun back into the waistband of his jeans. He'd clubbed Ian in the back of the head with the handle of a handgun. John was less than impressed but ignored the blow and slid past the man.

John slowly dragged himself up the stairs, clinging to the banister for support. He had to pause halfway up and catch his breath. He could feel how taxing the stairs were to him. He gulped a lungful of air and self consciously rubbed his chest. The bandages felt rough to his touch.

"Are you okay? You look tired. Did Ian send you to bed to?".

John looked up and studied the boy staring seriously down at him. Alex was so like him. And those big brown eyes. Helen's. John tried to smile reassuringly but the effort was too much. He wanted to just collapse into bed.

"Alex, I need you to get dressed" John said calmly. The small boy frowned down at him.

"No. Who are you anyway?" he asked.

John shrugged and stumbled up the last of the stairs to the landing Alex stood on. He opened his mouth to say something when all of a sudden, the lights went out. Swearing, John grabbed Alex and carried him down the hall and into the first room he came to. Turned out it was a rather nice spare bedroom.

Alex squirmed but John ignored him and looked out the large window at the back garden that lay beneath him. He could make out his partner's dark shadow, racing down the grass silently. John scowled. MI6 must have been watching the ports for him. They must have followed him here. More than anything he'd wanted to keep Ian and Alex out of trouble.

But he'd led trouble straight to them.

He kicked the window in and Alex yelped at the sound of breaking glass. John looked around the dark room once and then pulled Alex to his chest, sheltering the boy's small body with his own larger one.

He flung himself out the window and landed rolling. He sprang to his feet, ignoring Alex's protests, and sprinted through the slippery grass. He reached the boundary wall and flung himself over it quickly. His heart pounding loudly, his whole body aching, he skidded out and turned down the back alley toward the main road.

There!

He raced over to the dark Mercedes he'd rented the day before and flung open the door. The two seater car..._Hold on _he thought to himself. Two seats. Without pausing, he sat into his seat and took Alex on his lap. Before he'd even closed the door, the car had pulled off and was hurtling around the corner.

The blond man who was driving spared Alex a glance and then smirked at John before turning another corner sharply. Both of them could hear the sirens wailing behind them.

"Yassen, far be it from me to put any pressure on you but could you drive the tiniest bit faster?" John asked politely. He bit back the urge to cry. His entire body ached from his tumble out the window. His stitches had split open again. He knew it without even checking.

Yassen shook his head.

"We may be involved in kidnap and a car chase but this is no time to forget your manners. Say please" Yassen ordered, bringing the car to a halt. John glanced behind them frantically. The police were closing. The police meant MI6. What was Yassen doing?

"What? Drive now" John ordered.

Yassen turned to face his mentor and smiled. He shook his head silently and John started to panic. The sirens were getting closer.

"Fine. Please. Drive" John pleaded. Yassen smirked again and drove slowly into a cul de sac. John grimaced. Yassen had clearly lost his mind. The sirens were behind them now. John looked behind them and frowned. It was an ambulance, not a police car.

"MI6 didn't pull the lights. The electricity had to be switched off by the supplier to repair the generator" Yassen informed John nicely. John swore loudly and Yassen jerked his thumb at Alex.

"Your son?" Yassen questioned.

John nodded.

"He looks...tolerable" Yassen commented vaguely.

John smirked. He may not have known a single thing about parenting. Or children, for that matter. But at least he would fare much better than Yassen.

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**Not a particularly long or great chapter. But bear with me here. This was written in under an hour at last minute. Okay? So don't flame me. Please. But do review. Also, please check out my newest story 'What Came Before They Shot Him'. It was also written at short notice and I'd love to hear what you think about it.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all, just the plot. **

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"According to the Usborne Guide to Parenting, when they start acting up you're supposed to put them in the 'naughty corner'."

"Oh. Right. Well, we'd better go down to the shop and pick one up, hadn't we?"

"Of course. Why don't you head on down to the corner shop and ask them for a... I can't even say it. Here. You'll probably need this."

Yassen tossed the Usborne Guide to Parenting into the steel shopping basket John was carrying, lips twitching slightly. The Englishman fished it back out again and set the basket down, leaning on the wall as he slowly flicked through the glossy book.

If anybody had ever suggested to John Rider that six years after Scorpia's first attempt to off him he'd be waiting outside the boy's changing rooms in a massive Marks and Spencer's shop reading a book about parenting skills, he would have suggested they commit themselves to the nearest psychiatric hospital. Failing that, he might have taken personal offence and shot them. And yet, here he stood. Outside the boy's changing rooms. In Marks and Spencer. And in his hands he held a book about parenting skills.

It was funny how some things worked out and others didn't.

"Alex, you all right in there?" John asked absent mindedly, speaking through the door of Alex's occupied stall. He heard what sounded like a muffled derogatory term and figured Alex couldn't be doing too badly if he was cheerfully swearing at his 'old dad.' Since Alex's swear words didn't generally progress further than 'bum head' John had decided he'd let them slide. After all, he had been a bit of a bum head in his lifetime.

"I think I'm going to find a newspaper, see if MI5 have gone public with the disappearance. Try to cope on your own for a few minutes in my absence, won't you?" Yassen said dryly, pushing himself off the wall he'd been leaning on and rambling away purposefully, weaving through the clothing stalls that littered the department store.

John murmured a sound of understanding, immersed in his delightful book. He scanned the page on the three r's of parenting. Rest, Reflect, Refuel. Enlightening stuff. He'd ploughed on to section 2B, 'Understanding Infant Sexuality' by the time Yassen returned, the Times in hand. The younger man frowned slightly upon finding John in the exact same position as he'd left him. And without Alex entirely.

"John." Yassen said, reclaiming his post leaning on the wall next to John.

"Mmmmmhmmmmm?" John mumbled, turning another page. Infant Sexuality was all well and good, but what were you supposed to do when you'd kidnapped one of the little buggers and wanted to take them out of the country under a false cover story? Perhaps they'd deal with that later on in the book, John thought dryly.

"Has Alex finished yet?" Yassen queried, reclaiming his spot on the wall. The entire weekend had felt extremely surreal to Yassen. He'd known John had a son but still, it was different to actually see the boy with the unnerving likeness they shared. It was even more unnerving to see the apparent abhorrence Alex held his father in. Ever since they'd picked up the six year old he'd been trying John's patience expertly.

They'd settled into a sort of routine in the past two days, beginning that first morning that they'd checked into a Premier Class Hotel just outside of Watford. The hotel was just about adequate and their meagre rooms barely satisfactory. On the plus side, however, as long as they paid their bill the staff didn't care who they were.

They're routine, as Yassen had loosely dubbed it, began at six in the morning when the Russian went for his morning run. He'd return by nine to find Alex in his room, watching cartoons on the tiny television at an obscene volume. The first argument of the day would begin when Yassen told the boy to turn down his television. Alex would turn it up and Yassen would enter his room, plugging out the television and removing it to store in a nice high place that the diminutive six year old couldn't reach.

Alex would then verbally abuse Yassen with names like 'potty face' at a steadily progressing volume until John dragged himself out of his room and asked Yassen to please, please take him down for breakfast. Yassen would comply reluctantly and the second battle of the day would commence. Alex's standards of a highly nutritious breakfast consisted of Coco Pops, coca cola and sugar coated biscuits. Yassen consistently attempted to wean the little sugar junkie off his greatest delight unsuccessfully.

Yassen would bring Alex back up to his room, order him to wash and get dressed while John went for his breakfast. By the time John returned, Alex would have worked himself into a complete state of childish rage, working off pent up steam with a lovely tantrum. And then it would be time for Yassen's own personal form of hell. From midday to four o' clock, Yassen tried to shut down as many brain sensors as he possibly could while still being able to function.

That was the time of day when it fell upon him to organize something, _anything_to keep Alex amused. For four hours. This excruciating exercise had dragged Yassen all over London with his disobedient, petulant young charge. In the past two days, Yassen had endured a visit to Big Ben, a river cruise on the Thames, two trips on the London Eye, a guided tour of the national war museum, witnessed the changing of the guards ceremony at Buckingham Palace, strolled around aimlessly through Windsor castle, ridden the tube at least thirty times and bought at least two hundred 'whippy' ice creams that Alex had binned half-finished because he'd decided it tasted funny without 'that sauce that Ian puts on it.'

It had been an experience, to say the least. A surreal, hazy nightmare but an experience all the same. Once 'sightseeing' was finished, Yassen brought Alex to Mc Donalds for lunch because apparently, scientists had discovered that 'chips count as one of your five a day.' Then they tubed it all the way back to the hotel where Yassen deposited Alex to his room, vociferating loudly that he would never take him back into London on account of his deplorable behaviour. Even Alex knew what bluffing was.

The two men then spent an hour arguing in John's room, pouring over map after map of the world in an effort to obtain a secure safe house in which to 'hide out' for a while. John wanted somewhere in the Southern Hemishpere and had been attempting to sell the idea of New Zealand, a place that Yassen abhorred with his entire being. After all, the Russian argued, it would be easier for them to move Alex to mainland Europe and change locations regularly. Neither was willing to give an inch in negotiations.

At six, Alex would begin to whine incessantly that he was hungry and John and Yassen would take him downstairs to eat. He'd throw a fork or refuse to eat something on his plate and John would blow his stack, rushing outside to pace moodily for a half an hour while Yassen looked after his son. Relations between father and son were strained.

In fact, John purposefully avoided any time he had to spend in Alex's presence. Yassen wondered how much of it was to do with the boy's behaviour. He got the feeling that John was uncomfortable looking at Alex and he had no idea why. It wasn't something Yassen wanted to broach with his mentor slash best, well, only friend. Yassen would stretch out dinner as long as possible before he brought Alex back upstairs at seven, delaying as much time as he could before unleashing the child on John.

Because from seven to nine, the three males from vastly different generations were confined to John's room together. it was those two hours that Alex chose to pick away at John's limited patience like the sea eroding a cliff. It started with a few jibes and sarcastic comments. Then Alex moved on to insults, which got more personal and a lot more offensive as time wore on. Eventually, John would visually snap in two.

It was uncanny how the infuriating child zeroed in on John's insecurities and weak spots with the ease of someone who'd been practicing for years. It was manipulation of the lowest kind and the worst part was that it worked. Half of the time, John retreated to another room leaving Yassen to put Alex to bed, a long and unrewarding task. The other half of the time, John had a fit of his smothered temper and scolded Alex, loudly and at length.

The boy would sulk around before bed time and john would spend hours beating himself up over it, asking Yassen vacantly over and over whether he was too hard on the boy and vowing that tomorrow would be different. The cycle repeated itself the entire weekend and Yassen wondered just what it would take to break the dull monotony of his current predicament.

"Hm? No, I don't think so. Bang on the door and ask if he needs help, would you?" John asked, momentarily peeking over the top of his fancy new book. Yassen nodded to himself, broken from his spit of depressing thoughts eventually.

"Alex?" He rapped on the door sharply with his knuckles. "Are you alright?"

No answer came. Yassen crouched, supporting his weight on his arms and peering under the door of Alex's stall. Alex was definitely in there. Yassen could see the devilishly small trainers. He rapped again, louder and harder.

"Alex? Do you need some help?" He queried. Again, no response came. Yassen glanced furtively around, cursing inwardly once he caught sight of the swarm of employees hovering less that twenty feet away at the pay point. He couldn't kick in the door if people were watching. In fact, he wondered just what he appeared like, looking under the door of a boys changing stall.

"Is there a problem, sir? Something I can assist you with?"

And of course, one slightly braver than usual, uniform department store worker waded in. He was maybe seventeen years old with typical teenage skin and an unfortunate nose. He glared out at the world with swampy brown eyes that clearly held a great deal of suspicion towards Yassen, despite the touting of the company line.

"No, thank you. John, Alex won't answer me." Yassen said coldly, turning his back on the employee and facing John. The Englishman closed the book slowly, reluctantly, before looking up at Yassen with hardened blue eyes. His eyes flashed and he raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, asking Yassen silently to explain. the Russian tightened his lips slightly to signify his ignorance. Both instantly shut down the rather imprecise method of communication immediately as the young employee bustled in between them.

"Sir, if you're not actually with a child then I'm going to have to ask you to leave the children's department. You can't loiter here." He said with fake friendliness. Yassen clenched his teeth, desperate to just once fore go his own rule about not killing children. Did seventeen qualify as an adult? Probably not.

"We're waiting on my son. He's in there." John bit out through a fake smile that twisted his face into something cruel. Yassen was about to confirm the statement when a small, determined voice cropped up from behind the employee.

"I told you there were strange men l-l- loit- loitering around the changing rooms." Alex declared proudly, stepping out from behind his conspirator. The devious little... potty face. Yassen almost admired the maneuver, impressed at the boy's canny planning. He'd left the trainers behind to cover his getaway. It wasn't perfect but for a six year old... it was fairly spectacular.

"Alex, don't bother the _nice _man with falsifications. He likes a good joke. Alex, we're going to talk about this when we get back to the... house. Good boys don't tell lies." John said smoothly, adopting the role of concerned, indulgent father with ease. "I'm dreadfully sorry. Come on now, Alex. This isn't over, young man. We're going to have a talk when we get back."

"Oh. Right. It's just. Um. Your lad he... he told me that both of you were carrying firearms and I... I'm sorry, sir... I just sort of leaped to the conclusion that we might have a... situation." the employee stammered. John affected a benevolent smile lazily and sighed as if it burdened his existence entirely to hear the allegation. His eyes remained aloof though. Yassen was a little shocked by Alex's information. He'd never done anything to give Alex the entirely true impression that he carried a Browning 9mm on him at all times, something he knew John also did.

"He's got an imagination, I'll give him that. Look, I hope he hasn't caused you any bother. He just doesn't know when to stop pretending." John said, casually folding his arms across his chest.

"No, honestly, it's fine. It's just... store policy that I should call... security..." The employee trailed off. Alex grinned smugly up at his father and a brief flash of pain invaded John's gaze before he swallowed it up with blank, amused interest.

"Call security? Listen", he craned to see the employee's name tag, "Howard. There's really unnecessary. I think that perhaps, at this junction in your career, it might reflect badly on your chances of promotion to involve security in a non-incident. That's the sort of thing that finds its way into the tabloids, isn't it? You wouldn't want me or my friend here to make a personal complaint of harassment against you, would you?"

John managed to lace a threatening tone casually into his words which Howard understood all too clearly. Yassen would have smirked if he hadn't been so wound up. It felt wrong and strange to be played like a fiddle by a six year old. Especially one as cunning and capable as Alex Rider.

Howard shook his head obediently and John's face cracked into a polite smile. Alex scowled fiercely as John reached across and snagged his limp, unresisting hand like a short leash. He tugged the small boy firmly and with a tight nod at Howard, began to lead the boy out of the children's clothing department. Yassen followed silently, trailing his partner for a couple of meters with his hands in his pockets. He could tell John was furious from the tense angle of his neck and the way he walked with his head forward slightly. It felt exceedingly uncomfortable for Yassen to witness such disobedience from the child that John felt he had an obligation to save.

The strange little group walked in silence until John eventually got his temper under control and approached the nearest check out with his meagre basket. It held a packet of biscuits, some teabags, a jumbo pack of crisps, toilet roll and the book about parenting. In reality, the patriarc of the Rider family wanted nothing more than to bin the book along with all the pent up feelings of shame, worthlessness and self repulsion that Alex had stirred up in him.

Once he'd paid, he marched from the shop and back onto the main street indignantly, dragging Alex behind him. He began to speak, quietly and bitterly, biting out every single word in a low growl that made Yassen wince inwardly. Of course, the assassin would never be unprofessional enough to show his displeasure at John's harsh tone to the world.

"That is the very last time you will try anything like that. Do I make myself clear, Alex? I couldn't care less if I repulse you, if you abhor me with every inch of your being. That's fine. But you are in a lot of danger and, believe it or not, this is for your own good. Do I make myself clear?"

Alex tilted his chin obstinately up to look his father in the eye, tugging at his arms in an effort to make John stop and look at him. John continued along the street, bristling past with people veering wildly to get out of his way.

"No. Stop. You're a liar. You hurt Ian and you made me leave him. I do hate you!" Alex snapped wilfully. John plugged onward at a quicker pace, forcing Yassen to lengthen his stride to keep up.

"I hate me, alright? I'm trying to be what I should have been for you, Alex. I left you and I could have come back but I didn't because I was scared. I kept away because you terrify me, alright? I'm not a father. Not really. I've got nothing to give you because I'm not what you need. But I'm not going to let you be killed so-"

"I wish Ian was my dad and not you." Alex said, slowly and coldly dropping the words on John. Yassen's gaze flicked deftly to the infuriating boy just as John released his son's hand and turned to leave. Before Yassen could even ask where he was going, John paced away like a wounded panther. He was all shoulders and long, lithe muscles as he eased his way through the crunch of people thronging the street. Yassen watched him turn a corner out of sight without even glancing back to see if they were following him.

Which meant that Yassen would have Alex on his hands for the rest of the day. Just perfect.

Moronic English males seemed to be the bane of Yassen's existence.

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"I told you, it was John! My brother, John! For God's sake, what's wrong with you people!? My nephew has been kidnapped and you're not even looking!" Ian Rider ranted, berated, castigated, censured, rebuked, reprimanded and reproached angrily at the plebeian detective who'd come back to interview him about Alex's 'mysterious disappearance' for the third time.

"Okay. Do you have a description of this 'John'?" The detective asked stupidly and slowly, as if he was talking to a four year old instead of a highly qualified and capable machination of death.

"That's it. I want to speak to whoever is in charge of this case. Now." Ian ordered, the command in his voice making the detective wince.

A slow, brainless smile seeped across the detective's face immediately afterwards and Ian felt feelings of repulsion and horror stirring his stomach like a witch's cauldron.

"I'm in charge of this case." The detective said, puffing his chest out.

Ian couldn't help but wonder who he'd rubbed up the wrong way at MI6 to have them so disinterested in the kidnap of a six year old boy. They appeared to be hindering the investigation greatly for no reason other than that they could. And that worried Ian.

That worried him greatly.

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**_I can't believe it took me so long to update this story. I feel terrible about it, really. I can only apologize, though. And reassure you that updates are in the works for all of my stories. I started with this one first though, because it's the one I haven't updated in the longest time. Really sorry. Hope you review._**


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